Die, Rocky, Die
by Sassy Lil Scorpio
Summary: {WWF Attitude Era} Triple H and The Rock have always hated each other. Their rivalry was no secret to anyone in the World Wrestling Federation. But how far will Triple H go to defeat his competition? Stone Cold Steve Austin, Mankind, and Al Snow find out the terrifying depths of Triple H's fury towards The Rock. {Warning: Darkfic}


**Die, Rocky, Die**

 **A World Wrestling Federation Fanfiction by Sassy Lil Scorpio**

 **Disclaimer:** The Rock, Triple H, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Chyna, Mankind, Al Snow, and Shane McMahon are property of WWF/WWE. This author makes no claim of ownership. No monetary gain is being made from this work.

 **Summary:** Triple H and The Rock have always hated each other. Their rivalry was no secret to anyone in the World Wrestling Federation. But how far will Triple H go to defeat his competition? Stone Cold Steve Austin, Mankind, and Al Snow find out the terrifying depths of Triple H's fury towards The Rock. [WWF Attitude Era] [Warning: Darkfic]

 **Rating** : T

 **Dedication** : For Dwayne Johnson also known as "The Rock" and Paul Levesque known as "Triple H". Both men did an amazing job in making their feud come to life in the late 90s and early 2000s during WWF's Attitude Era.

 **Special Thank You:** Thank you to Dana, Tanisha, and Tiara for your encouragement with this story. Seventeen years later, and finally, it's complete. It's not exactly what I had envisioned when I first wrote the fic, but I'm still happy with the finished product since it has many elements from the original story. I hope you enjoy it. This story wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.

* * *

Cold handcuffs gnawed into his wrists. His hands were pulled painfully close behind his back and the cuffs' sharp edges made it worse. He shifted his legs. They were heavy as though weighed down by cement blocks. He couldn't stand up, even if he tried. He felt worn down and exhausted as a person would feel if they hadn't slept for twenty-four hours. His heart cartwheeled in his chest as he opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings. He felt like he was trapped in a thick fog, everything appeared hazy. He glanced around and realized he was laying on his back. He didn't recognize the dark room he was in, but he knew _that_ voice when he heard it:

"You know, Rock…you aren't half as annoying when you sleep, but even then you have a stubborn streak. I think you should sleep forever and put yourself out of your misery as well as mine."

"…What…the…hell?" Even talking took a lot of effort.

The Rock blinked and Triple H came into focus. He held a syringe with clear liquid.

"You can wake up when I _allow_ you to. Not now. I have lots of fun activities planned for you. Go back to sleep…"

Triple H loomed in his vision. There was a flutter of quick movement and then Triple H's boot slammed into his stomach. The Rock groaned in pain and he tried to shield himself by turning away. Triple H forced him to lie face-down on the ground. The Rock struggled against him, but he could barely move his body. He knew Triple H drugged him. What happened before that? He remembered snippets: Triple H told him to meet at the abandoned warehouse. His shock upon finding out that the entire Corporation was waiting for him to show up. Shane McMahon and Chyna watching from the sidelines…

Triple H spoke to him again and even in his sedated state, The Rock heard the hatred in his voice. It made The Rock break out in a cold sweat and he squirmed, wishing he could escape. He wasn't one to run away, but at this point, he didn't care if it made him look like a coward. He had no control of the situation. He hated being surprise attacked, ganged up on, and beaten…and now he was completely helpless at Triple H's mercy.

"From now on, it will be you and I. No one else. We'll get to know each other real well, Rocky. And then we'll see who's staying and who's leaving The Corporation. I have to hand it to you. You did pretty well against the guys…but not good enough."

Triple H grabbed The Rock's arm and plunged the syringe deep into his arm. The needle pinched hard and The Rock winced. He wriggled around, trying to wrench his arm free from Triple H's tight grip. It was futile as he quickly slipped into a heavy sleep. Before he did, The Rock caught a brief glimpse of Triple H's furious glare…

 **oOo**

One week later, Mankind and Al Snow walked into a local bar. It was mid-afternoon and they had nothing else to do, so they figured they'd grab a couple of drinks and play pool. They passed by several patrons ordering drinks. Alternative music played loudly in the background. Stone Cold Steve Austin was there and they waved at him. Stone Cold didn't wave back, but neither Mankind nor Al Snow took offense. Stone Cold was known to be a loner. He sat by himself at the end of the bar counter.

They found a table in the back, near an unoccupied pool table. A waiter came by and took their order. Mankind asked for two bottles of Budweiser beer.

"Add another Budweiser to that order," Al Snow told the waiter, while placing Head on the table. "She's thirsty."

The waiter left them to fill their order.

"You're kidding me," Mankind said, shaking his head.

"I'm not, she wants to have fun too. You don't see me badmouthing your filthy sock! Seriously, when's the last time you cleaned that thing?"

"Hey! Mr. Socko resents that!" Mankind slipped Mr. Socko on his hand and pretended to shove the sock down Al Snow's throat.

"Ugh, stop it! So why are we here anyway?"

"I wanted to talk with you." Mankind removed Mr. Socko and placed it next to Head. Even behind his mask, the excitement was present in his voice.

"And you couldn't talk to me outside?" Al Snow sounded skeptical.

"I can talk to you wherever I want about whatever I want!"

"Yes, I know. So what's going on?"

The waiter returned with their beers.

"You're gonna have to take off that mask to enjoy your beer," Al Snow said.

Mankind removed his mask and quickly grabbed the Budweiser. "So the real reason I brought you out here was to ask what you think."

"Think about what?"

"Haven't you noticed anything different lately? I mean, aside from seeing my face without the mask?" Mankind laughed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"He's been missing for weeks now."

"Who has?" Al Snow sounded frustrated as he slammed his bottle on the table. "Would you stop beating around the bush and just come out with whatever it is you want to tell me?"

"And here I thought suspense was a _good_ thing."

"It's not."

"Vince McMahon. He's been gone forever."

"Three weeks isn't exactly 'forever'."

"Okay, but it's been some time since we last saw him. He's never been away for more than two weeks. How come he hasn't been around?" Mankind asked.

"I have no idea, you'd have to ask him that."

"He's not around to ask, Al! That's my point."

"I don't know," Al Snow said, shaking his head. "I didn't notice he was gone until you mentioned it."

"He's the boss to end all bosses! How could you not notice Vince was gone?"

Al Snow shrugged.

Mankind drank his beer. "You know who else is missing in action?"

"Who?"

"The Rock. Where's he been?"

Al Snow nearly fell out of his chair. "You're worried about _The Rock_ missing?"

"Yeah, I wonder where he went."

"Why would you care about where _he_ went?! Vince McMahon is one thing, but The Rock…" Al Snow shook his head. "I wouldn't miss him if he never came back to the WWF."

"Aww, don't say that." Mankind looked truly forlorn as he picked up his empty Budweiser bottle and examined it.

"What's there to miss about him? He's arrogant, struts around like he has a stick up his ass—he's treated you horribly too many times to count. If anyone should be gone from the World Wrestling Federation, it's _him_!"

The waiter came back to their table to check on them. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Another beer," Al Snow said. "I need to drink away this recent foolishness."

"It's not foolishness," Mankind insisted when the waiter walked away. "I want to know what happened to Rocky. First, Vince goes missing, then his Corporate Jewel pulls a disappearing act."

"Is that what he calls himself these days? ' _Corporate Jewel_ '? Did he get tired of talking about himself in the third person?"

"I betcha he did, that dumb son of a bitch."

Mankind and Al Snow looked up at the same time when they heard the familiar rough voice with a Texan drawl. Stone Cold Steve Austin placed a six pack of beer on their table. He pulled a seat over from the next table and sat down with them.

"How long have you been listening in on our conversation?" Al Snow asked.

"Long enough to add my two cents. Gotta problem with that?" Stone Cold snatched a beer and snapped it open.

"No." Al Snow held up his hands in protest.

"Ya'll were sayin' Vince and Rocky's gone missin'."

"We were," Al Snow said, not disputing Stone Cold's statement.

Stone Cold gulped down his first can of beer. "I could hear you both from where I was sittin'. You're not exactly tight-lipped about this."

"I didn't know we were that loud," Mankind said, genuinely surprised.

"Well, you were! Anyway, I don't miss either of 'em. Vinny Mac has been a pain in my ass for as long as I can remember. The same with Rocky, Corporate Jewel, or whatever his flappy gums says he is."

"I don't miss him. I don't think anyone sitting here misses The Rock." Mankind stopped as he looked at both Al Snow and Stone Cold. Neither man said anything in response, confirming what he had just said. "It's just things aren't the same without him."

"Do you have memory problems?" Al Snow didn't hide his annoyance. "Have you forgotten all the awful things The Rick did to you? Like the time he handcuffed you and kept hitting you with that steel chair?" He pointed at his head to demonstrate to Mankind, that not only was he forgetting everything, but that he had recently taken a severe beating from The Rock.

"Of course, I remember," Mankind said, "how could I forget?"

"None of us could forget that, son. That was one hellish beatin' you took from Rocky," Stone Cold said. He snapped open a second can of beer and raised it to his mouth when he suddenly set the drink down on the table. "What the hell do we have here?"

At that exact moment, Triple H sauntered into the bar accompanied by Shane McMahon and Chyna. Triple H carried his infamous sledgehammer with him. He had been seen with it before and most wrestlers stayed away from him. All three were laughing loud enough for the entire bar to hear them over the booming music, and every patron turned around to stare at them. Triple H was oblivious to the attention that he and his allies were receiving. He nodded in response to something Shane told him and Chyna squeezed his right shoulder.

"Did he say what I thought he said?" Stone Cold asked.

"No, what did he say?" Mankind couldn't hear the conversation between Triple H and Shane. He thought Stone Cold must have a super sense of hearing if he could hear their conversation in the noisy bar.

Al Snow looked in Mankind's direction, a puzzled expression on his face. "Shane said something about Triple H being the 'King of The Corporation' now that he's eliminated his competition."

"'Eliminated his competition'?" Mankind repeated in disbelief. "What's he talking about?"

"Only one way to find out," Stone Cold said. "Let's hush up for a sec and see if he reveals anything."

All three men kept quiet as they eavesdropped on Triple H's "victory" story. It wasn't too difficult to do, since Triple H, Shane, and Chyna were standing near them and talking openly about what recently happened.

"Tell it again!" Chyna said. "This story's too funny."

"So I fooled Dad into leaving town for an entire month," Shane stated in a haughty tone as though this was an obvious truth that everyone knew. "I gave him some ridiculous story about Stephanie needing to see him for something important. He's all about Stephanie; she's Daddy's Little Girl."

"It gave Trips a chance to get rid of him, so I'd say your plan worked. Right?"

"It definitely did," Shane said, grinning.

When Triple H spoke, his voice didn't carry a celebratory tone. He sounded furious. "I finally got rid of that pompous bastard. He had it coming for a long time."

Nearby, Al Snow leaned forward and whispered: "Shane's saying he fooled Vince into leaving town and that they got rid of him, but I think they mean another 'him'."

"You heard them right," Stone Cold said. "Chyna said 'it gave Trips a chance to get rid of _him_ '."

Mankind was silent as he considered what they were saying. "' _He_ had it coming for a long time'." He looked from Stone Cold to Al Snow. "Who's the 'he' in this equation?"

"Your pal, The Rock." Al Snow spat out ' _The Rock_ ' with venom. "Who else?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Al. Me and Rocky aren't friends, and if he's gone, then we need to find out why."

"So go ask him!" Al Snow gestured in Triple H's, Shane's and Chyna's direction. "I'm sure they'll spill the beans."

Stone Cold slammed an empty beer can on the table, causing both men to immediately cease their argument. "We either find out what's goin' on—or you two can keep fightin' like a couple o' ole ladies. Me? I wanna know the truth." He pushed away from the table and approached Triple H, Chyna, and Shane who were standing near the bar ordering drinks.

"'Scuse me, but I overheard your conversation—" Stone Cold started.

"Are you always in the habit of butting into conversations that don't involve you?" Shane didn't hide the disdain from his voice.

"All the time, son, and if you keep talkin' to me like you're above me, I'll school you fast."

Shane puffed out his chest, as though to show Stone Cold that he wasn't afraid of him, but he didn't respond back.

"Clarification is needed. We wanna know more about what ya'll are talkin' about." Stone Cold was soon joined by Mankind and Al Snow on either side. "You got an interested audience that's not goin' anywhere anytime soon, so spill your guts."

"Dad went away…for a long time."

"As much as you hate your Dad, you sent him away on a useless trip to help Stephanie?" Stone Cold shook his head with a knowing smirk on his face. "That's bullshit."

"Yeah, I did." Shane rolled his eyes. "What's it to you?"

"Why'd you do it?" Mankind asked, now joining in their conversation.

Triple H and Chyna came over to Shane and handed him a Long Island iced tea. "Looks like we've got company," Chyna said. "They can join the celebration."

"Sure, why not," Triple H said, as he downed his shot. "The more the merrier."

"What did you do to The Rock?" Stone Cold challenged as he stood face to face with Triple H.

Al Snow and Mankind exchanged a knowing glance. They were shocked, but also glad that Stone Cold was jumping straight to the heart of the matter. They knew he wouldn't waste time with idle talk.

"What did we do to The Rock?" Triple H smirked. "How do you know we're talking about The Rock? What if I'm talking about The Undertaker?"

"You and Rocky have a history. Everyone standin' here knows it."

"Yeah, we definitely have 'a history' and then some. Glad everyone knows about it. That way it won't be too shocking when you find out what we did to him."

"What you _did_ to him?" Mankind couldn't hide the sense of growing dread creeping up on him and he wondered if Al Snow and Stone Cold felt the same way. He looked in their direction; they appeared indifferent.

Triple H gestured for Mankind, Al Snow, and Stone Cold to join him in the back of the bar. "Need some privacy for this conversation."

Shane and Chyna followed Triple H to the table that Stone Cold, Al Snow, and Mankind had recently sat at. They took the seats for themselves, forcing Stone Cold, Al Snow, and Mankind to grab nearby chairs. They sat across from each other: Triple H with Shane and Chyna flanking him on either side. Stone Cold directly across from him with Al Snow and Mankind on both sides. Triple H placed his sledgehammer on the table for everyone to see.

"So let's get started because it's gonna be a long night," Triple H said. His hazel eyes gleamed with hatred. "You wanna know what we did to The Rock. Or rather, what _I_ ," he gestured at himself with pride, "did to The Rock."

"Or more accurately, what _didn't_ Triple H do to The Rock?" Shane laughed.

Chyna nodded, amused. "Tell them what you did, Hunter."

Triple H ticked off his fingers, "First, we made pizza with Play-Doh. Then we had some fun with my collection of board games. You know, games like Monopoly, Trouble, and Sorry. Rocky chose those games himself. He was sorry for monopolizing The Corporation and causing so much trouble when I first joined."

"Yeah, sure." Mankind rolled his eyes.

"Shut the hell up and let me finish!" Triple H snatched the sledgehammer and pointed directly at Mankind. Then he spoke calmly as though he were discussing having a picnic with Chyna. "We planted an apple tree, did color-by-number, or was it paint?"

"Paint-by-number," Chyna confirmed.

"I microwaved popcorn for us and we watched some crazy Japanese anime, the violent ones with blood and gore."

"What's wrong, Austin?" Shane asked. "You don't look impressed."

"There's nothin' to be impressed about, you stupid bastard." Stone Cold ignored Shane recoiling at his response and turned his attention on Triple H. His tone betrayed his growing anger. "We don't have time for your little games. What did you do to Rocky?"

Triple H stood up from the table. "You really wanna know, Austin?"

"Yeah, I really wanna know. Spit it out."

"I can tell you, or I can show you."

Stone Cold didn't waver. "Show me."

"Alright then…" Triple H backed off and raised the sledgehammer over his head. "'Cause 'Stone Cold said so'." He swiftly brought the sledgehammer down on the table, destroying it.

"What in the world…?" Al Snow whispered as he backed off from the broken table.

Mankind stared at the wooden splinters sticking out from the table.

Stone Cold and Triple H glared at each other. No words were spoken by either of them.

The crashing noise of the sledgehammer slamming into the wood brought the owner of the bar running over to them. Chyna bolted from her chair and pushed him back, while Shane reached into his pocket and threw a wad of hundred dollar bills in his direction.

"For the damages," he said, laughing.

Frightened and unsure of how to handle the situation, the owner snatched the money and turned around and left. A few patrons turned around to see what was going on, but then refocused their attention elsewhere when they saw Triple H gripping the sledgehammer.

Triple H continued talking as though nothing had happened. "I tortured him for a week…he wouldn't break...I was beginning to think that maybe he really is as solid as a rock…but not anymore."

"Why?" Mankind wanted to know. "Why did you do that to him?"

"Isn't it obvious? I had to save The Rock from himself. He needed help and I know him like the back of my hand. Trust me, Rock and I go way back. Our history is longer than yours or Austin's. Rock was too stuck on himself to share space in The Corporation. One of us had to go…and I made sure it was _him_ 'cause it sure as hell wasn't gonna be me."

Stone Cold, Mankind, and Al Snow were quiet as they listened. Triple H misinterpreted their silence as boredom.

"I see you guys are bored as hell and want to know what really went down. So I'll give you the juicy details."

Mankind shrugged in response. Al Snow cradled Head on his lap. Stone Cold stared down Triple H, daring him to continue.

"I offered to meet him for a one-to-one fight at an abandoned warehouse five miles from here. The deal was the winner would stay in The Corporation and the loser would leave. No questions asked. He showed up, cocky and full of himself as usual."

Triple H chuckled as he remembered when The Rock had walked into the darkened warehouse. He thought he was only fighting against Triple H. When the lights were turned on, The Rock found out he was facing not one man, but more than _ten. "Run, Rocky, Run!"_ Triple H remembered shouting to The Rock when The Corporation bounded after him. Of course, he didn't get very far with that many men pursuing him. In no time at all, The Rock was caught and pummeled by the men he had once known as his friends.

He grinned when he recalled the memory of The Rock surrounded by the team who had once regarded him as their leader. Now they had turned completely against him. Triple H got to watch up close as The Corporation took turns beating up The Rock: they punched him in the jaw, kicked his face, kneed his groin, slammed his stomach… and so much worse… He thought about sharing those oh-so-beautiful details and then decided not to. It was one of those precious memories he wanted to keep to himself.

"The moment he walked in, he was thrown off his game. He had to get through at least ten guys. He was no match for any of them. The Corporation jumped him and handed him over to me—bruised, bloodied, and beaten."

"That's it?" Al Snow asked. He sounded as though he expected to hear more about what happened to The Rock.

"What do you mean 'that's it'?" Mankind elbowed Al Snow in the ribs. "They jumped Rocky!"

"There's a lot more," Shane said. "We're just getting started."

"That's pathetic." Stone Cold folded his arms across his chest, clearly unimpressed. "If you really wanted to kick his ass, why didn't you go against him, one on one?"

"Because I wasn't the only one who had beef with him," Triple H said, irritated by Stone Cold's comment. "He had been rubbing a lot of the guys the wrong way. Ken Shamrock, Test, Shawn, Big Bossman, Big Show…I could go on and on. They wanted him out as much as I did. So I let them in on the plot to rid The Corporation of that stupid pebble because at the end of the day, that's all he really is: a small, stupid, insignificant pebble that will be forgotten about."

"You manipulated them into doing your dirty work."

Triple H cast Mankind a long look.

"Most guys wouldn't be able to fend off ten men beating them up. What do you think, Al?"

"Me and Head agree."

"This is serious, Al," Mankind said.

"I'm serious," Al Snow said, shrugging. "I don't know why you're getting all upset about The Rock. It's not like he was your brother from another mother."

"Let him finish," Chyna said.

"Go on," Stone Cold said. "We're stayin' right here until you tell us exactly what happened."

"As I was saying, they handed him over to me on a silver platter, or rather, in silver handcuffs," Triple H's voice was wooden. "You should've seen it. It was hilarious watching him trying to get past all of them. He only succeeded in getting himself beat up worse for resisting, but he tried…I give him that."

"What did you do after that?" Mankind asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Chyna responded and Shane laughed.

Triple H wore a permanent scowl on his face. His facial expression never changed, even when Chyna and Shane joked about what had happened. He wanted Stone Cold, Mankind, and Al Snow to understand how serious he was about eliminating his competition—and the extreme measures he had used to accomplish that goal. Ignoring the music in the bar and letting it become background noise, Triple H now focused intensely on the three men in front of him who were finding out for the first time what had happened to The Rock.

"I taught The Rock an overdue lesson about grace, benevolence, and gratitude. He's choking on humble pie."

"You made him that pie?" Stone Cold demanded to know. "You should've baked one for yourself."

"I baked it myself and shoved it in his mouth. He had to be force-fed. I made sure he swallowed every last bite. As for that last line…I'll let that slide for now."

"Must've been disgusting pie if you made it," Al Snow muttered under his breath.

Mankind glanced at him, shocked that Al Snow had suddenly changed his reaction to Triple H's boasts of cornering The Rock.

Triple H raised his eyebrows, but chose not to respond to Al Snow's snide remark. "If you still don't believe me, then here you go." He fished inside his pocket and threw out a pair of crushed shades to Stone Cold who caught it.

Stone Cold held up the broken shades. He recognized them as belonging to The Rock. He decided to test Triple H and chucked the shades over his shoulder. "You brought those shades yourself, stomped on it, and carried them around. Nice try."

Shane turned to Triple H. "These jerks need solid proof."

Triple H agreed. "I've been talking a great story about how I put The Rock in his place, but that's just talk. Gotta show them I mean business. Right, Chyna?"

Chyna nodded. "Actions speak louder than words."

"I made copies for the rest of the guys to remind them not to get out of line, but I have some on me," Triple H said.

"Some of what? Some of Rocky's five hundred dollar silk shirts?" Stone Cold asked, and Al Snow chuckled. "Hope you ain't got expensive taste like him. I can't see you wearin' those ridiculous pretty-boy shirts."

Triple H held up several photographs. "Do what they taught you in grade school. Take one and pass it around. I better get them back."

He passed the first photo to Stone Cold. Soon after, he passed out the remaining three photographs. Mankind's eyes widened and Al Snow's jaw dropped. Both men didn't want to admit aloud that they were horrified by what they saw. Mankind muttered something inaudible under his breath and Al Snow shook his head in disbelief. Stone Cold remained impassive. He let the photos slip from his fingers so that they landed on the floor. Al Snow's and Mankind's eyes remained glued to the photographs. Stone Cold looked up and glared hatefully at Triple H. Shane snatched the photos from the floor and gave them to Chyna.

"Seeing is believing. I also enjoy looking back on fond memories," Triple H said in the most serious tone. "Pass me that one, Chy." He pointed at a particular photo. "Now this is one of my favorites. I put The Rock to good use here. He was the perfect punching bag. Don't look at me like that—he's done that to all of us at one time or another. Punch and kick us around for his own entertainment to feed his ego. I turned the tables on him, wouldn't you agree?"

Triple H held up a photo of The Rock tied up and suspended by his wrists from a wooden beam in the ceiling of a large room. His clothes were bunched up under the ropes and chains. The Rock was looking upward in the photo; he appeared to be focused on freeing his wrists that were tied high above his head.

"He was like that for several hours. It gave everyone a chance to have a good work-out at his expense."

" _Everyone_ ," Chyna made sure to emphasize the word.

"You did serious damage to him," Mankind said. "His nerves, dislocation, soreness…"

Triple H rolled his eyes. "Cry me a river! _'You did serious damage to him'_ ," He mimicked. "I wanted him to know what it felt like to have it done to _him_. Let him find out what it's like to be the punching bag."

"Don't waste your time explaining, Hunter," Chyna said. "They'll never get it."

"You're right, but they want to know what happened to their beloved big-mouthed buddy, so I'm gonna tell them. This next photo—Rocky and I had an 'I Quit' match. As you can see, we both gave it our very best."

The second photo showed Triple H straddling The Rock on the ground in an empty courtyard. Whoever took the photo had perfect timing. They had taken the picture just as Triple H's clenched fist landed in The Rock's already bloodied face. The Rock had his right arm raised in mid-air, too late to block the punch. Triple H's face was also bloody. Both men were unrecognizable save for their eyes and hair.

"Who won the match?" Al Snow asked, genuinely curious.

"Who's sitting here in front of you?" Triple H shot back in return. "That's your answer."

"Good one, Hunter," Shane said.

"Two more photos to go," Chyna said. "Show them that one." She pointed at a specific one.

"Ahhh this one…Rocky and that ridiculous eyebrow. We got rid of that stupid crap. Never liked it," Triple H said, holding up the photo.

The Rock was tied to a chair with duct tape. A large rectangle of the duct tape covered his mouth. Chyna held his head in a position similar to a sleeper hold while Triple H pointed at the camera with a wide dark grin. In his other hand was a razor blade dripping with blood.

"You shaved off his eyebrow…" Mankind whispered. He now noticed the blood dripping down The Rock's face and the bulging eyes and realized that Triple H was showing off the pictures of what happened in chronological order. The Rock was clearly terrified in this recent photo, and his complexion was a muddy blackish-bluish shade from the fight he had with Triple H. "That's like throwing out Mr. Socko."

"If I threw out that dirty sock today, you'd buy another one tomorrow," Triple H said. "We shaved off _both_ his eyebrows. Maybe he'll grow 'em back. Who cares if he doesn't? If he had listened to me the first time we tried to do it, the one he always raises would've been shaven off with no pain for Rocky. But being the stubborn candy-ass that he is, he put up a fight and made it worse for himself."

"I took the pic." Shane gestured to himself.

"Are you expectin' a gold medal for bein' a backstabbin' friend? No? Then shut the hell up before I kick your ass and do worse to you than what you did to Rocky."

Stone Cold's words drew the group into an eerie silence. It was the first time he had said anything since Triple H had showed the photos that revealed how he had tormented The Rock. There was something awful and telling about his words. Everyone knew it, but wouldn't say it aloud: The Rock and Stone Cold had been enemies for a long time. They hated each other, but there was something present in their feud that was non-existent in The Rock's long-standing rivalry with Triple H.

Respect.

Stone Cold and The Rock respected each other. It was unspoken, but always present in their dealings with each other. Whenever they fought each other, challenged each other, or tried to outdo each other—they did it against each other. No one else was brought into their fights. It was always one-on-one. And even if The Rock lost to Stone Cold, or Stone Cold lost to The Rock, there was still an inkling of begrudging respect that they held for the other man.

And it was Shane McMahon who had once been The Rock's right-hand man. They had partied together, ruled The Corporation together, plotted against Stone Cold together. When Triple H came on the scene, things had changed…and not in The Rock's favor.

If there was one thing that Stone Cold hated, it was betrayal. He lived by his mantra: DTA—Don't Trust Anybody. From everything he was hearing, it confirmed for him that he would never trust anyone. He wondered if at any point during all these beat-downs, ganging up, and whatever else had happened—if The Rock had regretted putting his trust in Shane. He wouldn't voice his thoughts aloud, but he kept them in the forefront of his mind.

"Those were three photos. What's the last one about?" Stone Cold asked, although he felt angry by everything he was hearing and seeing.

"This last photo?" Triple H held it up for them to see. "It was time to say die, Rocky, die."

"' _Die, Rocky, die'_?!" Mankind and Al Snow asked at the same time.

"Oops, I meant, 'bye, Rocky, bye'." Triple H's serious façade shattered and he doubled over as laughter overtook him. Next to him, Chyna and Shane carried on the same way, oblivious to the fact that they were the only ones enjoying the gruesome and morbid narrative.

Stone Cold looked at Mankind and Al Snow. His eyes didn't betray a hint of worry, although he was disturbed by everything they had learned in the past hour. Without saying a word, he shook his head. After a moment, he mouthed to them: _"This is crazy-ass bullshit."_ They nodded in agreement. All three focused on the final photo.

The Rock was laid out in a casket, wearing an expensive black suit. The portion of the casket covering his legs was closed. Only the upper half was opened. One eye was swollen shut, his skin complexion was the color of an eggplant—brownish purple. Both eyebrows were gone, dried blood was caked above his eyes and under his nose. His arms were behind his back and duct tape covered his mouth. Chyna sat on the part of the casket that remained closed. She grinned as she looked straight at the camera and gave a thumbs-up sign. Triple H stood by her, his arm wrapped around her waist. Shane was at the head of the casket, taunting The Rock. Obviously, the photo had been taken by another member of The Corporation.

"As you can see, we had lots of fun with The Rock during his last week." Triple H raised his arms as though he were a triumphant boxer.

"What you call 'fun' was one-sided," Stone Cold pointed out.

"That's your opinion."

"That's a _fact_ , son."

Mankind added, "What was your goal in all this? To humble him?"

"' _Humble him'_?" Triple H glared at Mankind as though he couldn't believe what he was being asked. "I wanted to _break_ his ass: mind, body, and spirit. And I did: two out of three isn't bad. My only regret is that I'm not there to watch him take his last breath."

"You got your friends from The Corporation to jump him—friends that were once _his_ friends," Mankind said. "You didn't need to go further than that."

"It wasn't enough. He needed to be publicly humiliated, so I strung him to be my personal punching bag. Beat the holy hell out of him in a street fight match."

"That's overkill," Al Snow said, agreeing with Mankind.

"No, it was _under_ kill. I did all those things to him and he _still_ put up a fight—stupid Rock doesn't know when to give up…so I did the one thing that I knew would send him over the edge. Too bad none of us will be around to witness his final agonizing moments on this Earth."

"You gonna brag about that, too? Go on, son, we're waitin' to hear all about it." Stone Cold threw up his arms in air, mocking Triple H. "Can't even fight the man on your own, and you're up here talkin' about how you broke him. Looks like he broke _you_."

Mankind looked from Stone Cold to Triple H. He could feel the tension in the air increase tenfold and he didn't know what to expect next. It was like being outside during a severe thunderstorm and seeing flashes of lightning and waiting for the inevitable booming of thunder.

No one spoke for a full minute.

Mankind watched everyone. Triple H and Stone Cold stared each other down. Shane and Chyna smirked at each other, trying to hold in their laughter. Al Snow stared down at Head. No one said anything, so he decided to break the unbearable silence.

"You didn't say what you did to The Rock afterwards."

"I did," Triple H said, never taking his eyes off of Stone Cold. "Maybe you weren't listening."

"You said, 'die, Rocky, die'."

Triple H applauded. "Good, you were listening…as you should if you know what's good for you."

Mankind forced himself to ask the next question. He wasn't afraid because the answer might be obvious, but because of what it meant and the immense weight it carried. It meant that Triple H's hatred for The Rock went far deeper than he first thought. And it made Mankind wonder what would happen if anyone were to take The Rock's place…

"What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?" Triple H shot back.

"It means you kicked him out for good."

"It means he's six feet under."

"Six feet…?"

"He won't be a pain in the ass to myself or anyone in the World Wrestling Federation ever again."

Mankind swallowed the lump in his throat. He wondered why he was the only one who was visibly shaken up by what Triple H proudly admitted to. Still, he didn't believe him. He didn't _want_ to. He leaned over to Al Snow. "He's bluffing…there's no way he got rid of The Rock."

"I'm not bluffing. Would you like to exhume him? If you want to find Rocky, check out the local obituaries or cemeteries. There's two local ones in Stamford: Woodland and Fairfield Memorial."

"Two local what?" Al Snow asked to confirm.

Triple H threw down his sledgehammer on the ground in a fit of rage, frustrated that Mankind and Al Snow were slow to catch on. "Damn it—am I talking to myself?! Cemeteries—two local _cemeteries_!"

Mankind and Al Snow exchanged a worried glance: _was Triple H serious?!_

Triple H kicked aside debris from the table he had destroyed earlier and grabbed his sledgehammer. "He's at Woodland in an unmarked grave. That's all the info you're getting from me. You can try to locate him, but you may find a corpse by the time you reach him—and that's _if_ you reach him. I'm not counting on it."

Mankind and Al Snow bolted up from their chairs. They instinctively knew what the other man was thinking: they couldn't waste one more minute, sitting in this bar and listening to these—lies? Stories? Tall tales? Mankind was about to turn around to leave the bar to find The Rock, when it struck him:

"He's alive in the picture." He had heard the words "exhume", "six feet under", and "corpse"…but the full grim picture that Triple H was painting still hadn't hit him yet…

"You think I did The Rock a favor and buried him when he was dead?" Triple H roared with laughter. "You must think I'm a saint!"

The horrifying realization blindsided Mankind: _Triple H buried The Rock. Alive…_

Mankind turned his back on Triple H, refusing to look at him. He didn't know what he'd do or say if Triple H, Chyna, or Shane McMahon were in his line of sight. He clenched his fists involuntarily, willing himself to remain calm. He was about to storm out of the bar, when he realized his mask was missing.

"Get my mask, Al. We're leaving."

Al Snow sifted under the ruined wooden table and pulled out Mankind's mask. He handed the mask to his friend. "What do you want to do now?"

Mankind fixed his mask over his face. "We have to find The Rock."

"You heard what he said—he might be gone—"

"Don't say that." Mankind turned to Al Snow, his eyes wide with anger and determination. "What we found out is beyond sick. And I've been in the World Wrestling Federation long enough to have experienced sick firsthand enough times to write a dissertation on the subject." He shook his head as he tried to figure out the right words to express all the shock, revulsion, and confusion he felt. It was unbelievable to imagine that just an hour or two ago, he had wanted to know what happened to The Rock. And now he had the answers… "We gotta get out of here, Al. If not for The Rock…then for ourselves." He stared down at the ground when he spoke next. "I'm not gonna ask where you got the casket from."

"I stole it from The Undertaker," Triple H said, proudly. "He has so many of them, he won't miss one."

Now Mankind looked like he wanted to vomit. Even from behind his mask, the queasy expression on his face was readable. "You've gotta be kidding me..."

"I'm serious. Deadly. Serious." Triple H locked eyes with Mankind, who had looked up at him, completely flabbergasted.

Mankind had nothing else to say. Triple H had already tried everything he could to eliminate The Rock and now he had stolen from The Phenom...The Undertaker... Mankind had more than enough experience to know that if there was one man you _didn't_ cross in the World Wrestling Federation, it was The Undertaker. Clearly, Triple H had grown an ego so enormous, that he had zero respect for anyone since he had the gall to against The Undertaker in such a careless way. Mankind looked at Al Snow, who nodded solemnly.

Al Snow glanced over his shoulder and met Stone Cold's eyes. Stone Cold nodded at him. He knew what Al Snow and Mankind planned to do. He wanted them to do what needed to be done—find The Rock. He could hold his own against the three Corporation affiliates.

Without another word, both Mankind and Al Snow rushed out of the bar. They had no inkling of how long The Rock had been buried. Triple H had mentioned he was buried in Woodland, but he could've told them that to throw them off. They weren't afraid of Triple H, but they were fearful of what he had done to The Rock…and what this meant for _anyone_ who stood in Triple H's path in the future.

Stone Cold watched as Mankind and Al Snow left and then turned to Triple H. Chyna and Shane stood next to him like bodyguards, ready to pounce on Stone Cold if he breathed the wrong way. He decided to ignore Chyna and Shane. They were just Triple H's pathetic lapdogs who followed his every whim, no matter how extreme and ridiculous. They weren't a threat.

It was Triple H he needed to focus on. Triple H's revelations about what he had done to conquer the competition showed how insecure and vicious he really was. Jumping The Rock, using him as a punching bag, forcing him to fight in a Last Man Standing or an "I Quit" street fight, shaving the man's trademark eyebrow, and finally—burying him alive—this hit the ultimate low in Stone Cold's eyes.

He had battled against The Rock countless times and it never got to this extreme level as it did with Triple H. Stone Cold could handle competition. Triple H refused to deal with it, which is why he went through great lengths to eliminate The Rock. He wouldn't allow Triple H to think he had permission to intimidate and bully others…just because he finally ridded the world of the man he hated most.

With Mankind and Al Snow gone, Stone Cold took it upon himself to finish the conversation.

"When did you bury him?" Stone Cold didn't outwardly flinch when he said "bury", but he was cringing inside. "To take a page out of Mankind's book, you're a sick bastard."

"I dunno." Triple H shrugged. "An hour ago…maybe a day ago. Depends on my mood. Thank you for the compliment."

"We just came from placing flowers on his grave, and then headed over here," Chyna said. "How long ago was that?" She turned to Shane.

Shane glanced at his wristwatch. "About two to three hours ago."

Stone Cold didn't reply as he stood up. He had heard enough and decided he would follow Mankind and Al Snow to help them out. They couldn't have gotten too far. He didn't want to imagine or think of what they'd find if they didn't reach The Rock in time. It might be too late already…

"You gonna tell your Daddy when he gets back about what you did to his Corporate Jewel?"

"'Daddy'?" Triple H looked confused.

"I'm talkin' to the McMahon among us." Stone Cold pointed at Shane.

"I'll tell him Rocky quit because he couldn't play nicely with others." Shane's tone was nonchalant. "He'll buy it. Rocky's replaceable. See, that was his mistake. He thought he'd always be number one and that no one could take his spot. Wrong!"

"He was gravely mistaken," Chyna added.

"That's a good one, Chyna!" Triple H said. "I'm learning all these new things about you that I didn't know before. Like your sense of humor." He shared a brief kiss with her and then turned to Stone Cold. "Rocky will suffer to his last breath. He has no one to blame but himself." Triple H approached Stone Cold so that they were face to face. "Let that be a warning to you, Austin. If you get in my way, the same thing will happen to you. I'll take care of you the way I took care of The Rock."

Stone Cold didn't respond, nor did he blink. He remained there until Triple H backed down after a full minute. Stone Cold shook his head and grinned victoriously.

"The Rock ain't here to do it, so I'll do it for him." He flipped both middle fingers at Triple H, Chyna, and Shane. "To hell with all of three of your cowardly candy-asses—it took all of you and The Corporation to get rid of one man. A backstabbin' friend, a manly bitch, and a pussy long-nosed freak who gets others to clean up his business—you deserve each other!"

Triple H rushed at him, ready to throw a clenched fist. Stone Cold blocked the attack and punched Triple H across the face. He quickly shoved him towards Chyna and Shane who both fell backwards. Stone Cold stood over them and spat on Triple H's face.

"From me to you, you dumb son of a bitch!"

Stone Cold whipped around and headed towards the exit of the bar. He could hear Triple H, Shane, and Chyna getting to their feet as he got closer to the door.

"Take your chances, Austin, and you'll see what happens to you—you'll end up in the grave right next to Rock's!"

Stone Cold didn't turn around when he heard Triple H shouting at him. He grabbed a spare beer off another patron's table and left the bar for the night. Maybe he would find Mankind and Al Snow in time…and maybe he wouldn't. For now, he had to prepare himself for whatever lay in the future—especially where Triple H was concerned.

 **oOo**

The Rock didn't know how long he had been underground, but he knew he was running out of time.

He had been banging on the casket lid for what seemed like forever. By a random stroke of luck, he had managed to pull his arms apart and break the handcuff chain before being placed in the ground. Not that it mattered. He was still locked in the tiny prison that shrunk every time he opened his intact eye. The other eye was swollen shut.

Taking a deep breath, The Rock tried not to let panic overwhelm him. He closed his eye again and shifted around as much as the small space allowed. Severe pain throbbed throughout his body. It felt like Triple H had struck him with a baseball bat everywhere. Aside from the pain, he felt extremely uncomfortable. Sticky sweat poured down his back, arms, legs, and groin. Every second he stayed in there, his heart slammed full force against his chest. He felt as though his heart would break through his skin; it was beating so fast and hard. The palpitations made it difficult to breathe, and even so, he was trying to conserve what little oxygen there was in his claustrophobic environment.

When he thought about everything that had happened, he didn't know what was worse because all of it was awful. Shane McMahon betraying him after he lost a fight to Stone Cold. Triple H turning the entire Corporation against him so that The Rock had no friends in the end. Receiving the shock of his life when he went to the warehouse, expecting to have a fair fight against Triple H to decide who would stay in The Corporation—only to find he was facing the entire faction on his own. Being forced to endure a week of never-ending physical abuse. Chyna bringing the casket to the basement where The Rock was held captive as a way to instill terror in him for what lay ahead. The heavy sound of dirt hitting the casket and getting quieter each time as his grave was filled up, until there was nothing left but eerie silence. The Rock realized that last experience was when he knew they were finished with him. It was like a bucket of ice cold water hitting him in the face when he realized what the sound meant.

Burial alive.

 _Triple H was actually burying him alive._

Weren't the beatings enough? His ambush and his body being used as a punching bag? Wasn't that enough to satisfy Triple H's rage? His hatred for The Rock was unquenchable. For The Rock, the pain and humiliation he endured for a week only seemed to increase Triple H's fury. His appetite for revenge grew exponentially the more he tried to break The Rock. Still, The Rock refused to crack. He had preserved his sanity. He didn't cower, quiver in terror, or beg for mercy. There may've been moments where he slipped up and fear peaked through against his will. Still, he did his best to live up to his namesake: The Rock.

Until now.

The Rock could take everything Triple H threw at him. But not this. This was more than he could bear. He remembered Triple H's words: _Your carcass will be six feet under by the time I'm through with you._ At the time, The Rock figured Triple H was talking idle threats. But now, being locked in an oppressive casket, six feet under who knows how many pounds of dirt, trapped with decreasing oxygen, and feeling like he had been shoved into a boiling furnace…The Rock _knew_ Triple H wasn't joking.

They left him there to die a humiliating and hopeless death. A traumatic and soul-shattering death.

The Rock could feel the strength draining from him as he grew weaker. Every time he struck the casket, he used up more energy and more oxygen. Terror overwhelmed him when he saw his feet at the opposite end of the casket. He looked above him and the casket's roof was right over him. There was barely an inch of space between the tip of his nose and the lid. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was…two inches. Three inches?

He wondered again how long he had been buried. He immediately tossed that thought out of his mind and pounded against the casket, mustering up whatever strength he had left. Beating against the casket only tore his skin more and he could smell his own blood. It was a faint coppery scent and nausea swept over him. He was afraid of vomiting on himself. His breathing grew ragged and he forced himself to lay still. He had one aspiration: get out alive. But how?! No one knew he was there. And by the time anyone found him, he would be…

The Rock forced himself to think of other things to distract himself. It was impossible. His mind always wandered back to him and Triple H. They had always hated each other. Ever since they had first met in the World Wrestling Federation, there had never been a time where they actually got along, cooperated, or tried to make peace with each other. They were rivals when they were heads of their own factions: The Rock led the Nation of Domination and D-Generation X followed Triple H's command. They were on opposite sides and each man had a team of wrestlers to pit against the other.

The Corporation was a different story. Now they were on the same side and it was impossible for them to co-exist. Both men had strong personalities. Neither wrestler was willing to budge or compromise for the other. It was only a matter of time before the animosity between them exploded. There just wasn't enough space for both men. It was either him or Triple H. And after losing to Stone Cold for the third time, The Rock knew his days in The Corporation were numbered…

 **oOo**

 _The Rock returned to the locker room to find The Corporation huddled around Shane McMahon and Triple H. He almost turned around and stormed out when he saw Triple H leering at him._ What the blue hell is he doing here?! _The Rock thought. He felt a mix of confusion and anger at seeing his worst enemy, standing right next to his best friend, Shane McMahon, as though he had been there from the very beginning. Triple H looked elated to be there and made it known that he was glad that he had stepped into The Rock's territory._

 _Shane glanced at The Rock and then turned back to Triple H. "Rocky's mad because he lost to Stone Cold again."_

" _And that I'm on his turf," Triple H said, grinning. "If he wasn't focused on being a sore loser, he would've already put an end to the Austin problem."_

" _Well, it won't be his turf much longer since he can't cut it."_

" _Leave Austin to me, Shane. I'll take care of him and he won't be a thorn in The Corporation's side any longer. As for him," Triple H said, nodding at The Rock. "He better step up or step out."_

 _The Rock bolted towards Triple H and punched him across the face. The Corporation erupted in a crazed cacophony of shouts as a fight broke out between The Rock and Triple H. The Rock didn't know who they were cheering for, but he knew he wouldn't stop until Triple H was on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. In one swift movement, he snatched Triple H's hair, yanked it backwards, and smashed his face into a nearby locker. He then released Triple H and kicked him in the stomach. It was only afterwards that he felt strong arms pull him back._

 _The Rock struggled against whoever was trying to break up the fight. Suddenly, Shane loomed in his face. Triple H had already gotten to his feet, and wiped the blood from his nose. He was furious and punched the same locker The Rock had used to bash his face in, leaving a bloody smear._

" _Enough, Rocky!" Shane stood between The Rock and Triple H, acting as a mediator. "This ends right now and stays in the locker room. Triple H is here to stay, and if you don't like it, then speak up now or forever hold your peace."_

" _He doesn't belong here," The Rock growled._

" _He does now—" Shane started._

" _I can speak for myself, thank you." Triple H stepped around Shane, so that he was standing face to face with The Rock. "You don't like me being here, Rock? There's the door." He pointed at the entrance to the locker room._

" _The Rock isn't going anywhere."_

" _I don't plan on leaving either. We're both here, so we should shake on it." Triple H held out his hand._

 _The Rock glanced at Triple H's hand and spat a gob of saliva on it. Triple H wiped his hand on his jeans._

" _Very mature, Rock."_

 _The Rock grinned proudly. "If you plan on staying, The Rock wants you to be aware of one thing."_

" _And what's that?" Triple H rolled his eyes._

" _Get used to it," The Rock pointed at Triple H's bloodstained hand. "You'll be seeing a lot of your blood in the near future."_

 _A full minute of tense silence was exchanged between both wrestlers._

" _Is that a threat?" Triple H finally asked._

" _It's a promise. The Rock_ always _keeps his promises." He arched his eyebrow to punctuate his statement._

" _Alright, Rocky…we'll see about that," Triple H said and a twisted smile flashed across his face. "I suggest you act quickly on that promise—if you don't want to_ choke _on_ your _blood in the near future."_

 _There was an outburst of laughter and cheers from the rest of The Corporation from Triple H's statement. The Rock ignored it as he used that time to leave the locker room. He was aware that no one had made any move to support what he had promised Triple H. It was the first telltale sign that he was no longer considered the top man of The Corporation or the "Crowned Jewel" as Vince McMahon used to proudly call him. Still, The Rock had no way of knowing that that first confrontation with Triple H in the locker room was the first of many to come and would eventually cumulate in his murder…._

 **oOo**

" _I'm gonna kill you, Rocky, if it's the last thing I do."_

The Rock was no longer in the locker room that first night when Triple H first joined The Corporation. He wasn't in Shane's business office, trying to convince him why he was better than Triple H. He wasn't chained up by the wrists like a human punching bag. He wasn't fighting Triple H in a street fight match, nor was he strapped to a chair having his eyebrows being forcefully shaven off. He wasn't in the basement where they had kept him prisoner and where Chyna had placed a casket to give The Rock a not-so-subtle hint of what lay ahead for him.

No. He was buried underground. In a community cemetery or an open field, The Rock didn't know. Maybe he wasn't even in Connecticut anymore. Maybe he was in New York or New Jersey. The Rock was clueless as to where he was interred, but he knew he was locked in the same casket that had been placed inside his cell. Triple H had done more than make him bleed and had done far worse than kick him out of his own faction. Burying The Rock alive had one clear purpose:

Kill him. Force him to dive off the wall of sanity head-first and crash into a dark oblivion of madness.

He blinked and his one intact eye widened when he heard Triple H's words resound in his mind again: _I'm gonna kill you, Rocky, if it's the last thing I do…_

The stark realization hit The Rock full force. It stabbed his psyche, crushed his mind, and tore his spirit apart. He couldn't distract himself from the harsh reality of the situation. Nothing would change the inevitable.

When he looked around again, the casket was caving in on him. Closing in all around him. Surrounding him. Trapping him. Tightening its grip on him so that he couldn't escape. He was surprised to feel tears running down his cheeks. Maybe it was better this way: to cry in private, to surrender—to give up—at least Triple H wasn't around to see The Rock hit his lowest point. Somewhere in that moment, The Rock found out how much he hated Triple H, and how he wished more than ever that he could force Triple H to switch places with him. And yet, the anger would do him no good at this point. Because he was _down here_ and Triple H was _up there_.

This was it. The Rock resigned himself to accepting that this was his final resting place. His only regret was that he couldn't warn the rest of the World Wrestling Federation of Triple H's rampage. They would soon find out. And by then, The Rock knew he would be long gone…

 _Stone Cold, Mankind, Al Snow…_ The names floated through his mind. The Rock felt overcome with regret for how he had treated them and many others in the World Wrestling Federation. Maybe this was his comeuppance for all the times he humiliated and beat up other wrestlers. Maybe Triple H kicking him out of a faction he had once used as an avenue to bully others was his way of paying penance. The Rock thought it was ironic that they would never know what happened to him. He would just be another wrestler who came and went from the WWF. He didn't want to believe that, but as Shane taunted him just before Triple H closed the casket, and he saw light for the last time, The Rock knew it was true: he was replaceable and forgettable.

Just as the names faded from his mind, The Rock found a strange peace taking over him. There was nothing to fight for anymore. He hadn't given Triple H the satisfaction of witnessing his mental breakdown. So in that way, The Rock knew he was victorious. He had beat Triple H at his own game in his own way. A broken smile lit up The Rock's face. He didn't realize he was breathing fast again and the heart palpitations had resumed. He tried to lift his fists to pound the casket lid and could barely raise them. It was just as well.

Every breath he took brought him closer to his last…

 **oOo**

Stone Cold made it into the cemetery just in time. Night had fallen and he knew the groundskeeper would close the gates at any moment. He drove down several pathways in the cemetery, trying not to make too much noise. For some time, it seemed he would never find Mankind and Al Snow. He remembered Triple H mentioning an unmarked grave. That made things difficult, but Stone Cold knew what a recently buried grave looked like—it had fresh dirt on top.

He did another drive through the cemetery and then made a right turn on a path that he hadn't driven down before. Soon, the motorcycle's headlights landed on a parked car…and on an opened casket situated near a large dirt pile. Two men were present near the casket. Stone Cold parked the motorcycle and heard thunder rumbling overhead. A cold wind whipped around him.

As he approached the gravesite, he saw Mankind kneeling over the casket. The upper half was opened. Stone Cold noticed Al Snow standing nearby, as though giving Mankind some space or time alone with whomever lay in the casket. Stone Cold could only think of only one name to say:

"Rocky?"

Mankind looked up when he heard Stone Cold. It was hard to see in the darkness, but Stone Cold thought Mankind had a distant look in his eyes. He watched as Mankind removed his mask and threw it aside. The mask lay in the dirt pile, abandoned. Mankind turned back to the person in the casket.

The sky let up and sheets of rain poured down. The rain drummed on the bottom closed portion of the casket.

Stone Cold looked at Al Snow, who shook his head. Al Snow stepped over to pick up Mankind's mask and then resumed his spot, several feet away. Stone Cold watched as Mankind gently closed the top portion of the casket lid. Lightning lit up the sky in a purple blaze and thunder crashed above them.

Mankind stood up, but he didn't leave the casket. He was soon joined by Al Snow and Stone Cold. Together, they stood over the casket, remembering the person inside. Each man wondered what would become of them and what would happen to the World Wrestling Federation—especially now that they knew there was one specific wrestler who wouldn't hesitate to _kill_ his competition to maintain his number one spot at the top.

In the cold rain, they paid their respects to the man whose arrogance infuriated them, and whose manner of speaking in the third person managed to both annoy and amuse them. The man whose rise and fall now marked the beginning of a new terrifying era for everyone in the World Wrestling Federation.

The man who Triple H refused to share space with in The Corporation.

The Rock.

 **The End**


End file.
